


III. Acceptance

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, Established Relationship, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-30
Updated: 2006-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Each of the Winchesters have to come to terms with the dynamics of their relationships.  (As a side note, Stull is located about 10 miles west of Lawrence, KS)  Third in the Unveiling Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

ACCEPTANCE

By Shorts

 

The sun dipped below the horizon as Dean dropped the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place. He continued to stand with his back to the room and Sam.

 

“He’ll be here,” said Sam, watching Dean from the chair by the table.

 

“How do you know?” asked Dean.

 

“Because he said he would be,” answered Sam. His stomach clenched with apprehension on facing John, knowing he knew about them.

 

“And you believe him? Isn’t that a switch?” asked Dean, turning to look over his shoulder at Sam. “You’ve always been the one at odds with him.”

 

Sam pursed his lips and dropped his gaze. He knew John would be back for the simple fact there would be a confrontation about his relationship with Dean. “He promised. The man doesn’t break his promises, Dean. Not without good reason.”

 

Dean moved back to the bed and eased down, sitting on the edge. “I’d say finding out your sons are doing the nasty together would qualify.” 

 

“God, Dean,” groaned Sam, running his hands through his hair.

 

“Or, hell, wanting to fuck your own son would do, not that it isn’t out of the realm of possibility,” muttered Dean.

 

Sam froze. “Do you?”

 

“Do I what?” asked Dean, lifting his head and looking at Sam.

 

“Want Dad?” asked Sam.

 

It was Dean’s turn to drop his gaze. “What difference does it make?”

 

“It makes a helluva difference, Dean!” said Sam, standing.

 

“Why? Is it any less wrong to be fucking you, than him?” challenged Dean.

 

Sam’s mouth opened, but no words formed. There was no right answer to that question.

 

Dean shook his head and stared down at his hands. This wasn’t the way he wanted things to be, not that it had ever been any different. In the past he always found himself caught between his father and brother as they squared off against each other.

 

Sam took in the strained and drawn look on Dean’s face and wanted nothing more than to go to him and hold him. Despite the intimacy they had shared earlier, Dean still reacted if he moved too quickly or unexpectedly in his direction. Slowly he moved toward him, trying to be as unthreatening as possible when the heavy silence was broken by a sharp knock on the door. Sharing a quick look with Dean, he changed direction and opened the door, stumbling back as John punched him.

 

“Don’t!” shouted Dean, his fear coming true at the sight of John standing over Sam sprawled on the floor, his fists clenched. Ignoring the protest of healing injuries, he once again he found himself between them; wanting nothing more than to stop this nightmare come to life.

 

“You said you killed that fucking demon,” snarled John, anger coloring every word. He slammed the door closed and took a step toward Sam, but found his way blocked by Dean.

 

Sam rubbed his chin, shock on his face as he stared up at his father. He had played a thousand scenarios through his head waiting for John to return and not one of them had held the possibility of John hitting him. Their father had never raised a hand to either of them. “What?”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was still out there?” demanded John, glaring hard at Sam.

 

It took a moment for Sam to realize what John was saying and that the confrontation wasn’t solely about his relationship with Dean. “The demon? I destroyed the church and sent it straight back to hell!”

 

“Really? Then explain Sandy,” ordered John.

 

Sam’s eyes widened. “How do you . . . Is she here?” He had tried to convince himself these past few days he had over reacted and that what had happened had merely been his imagination 

 

Dean looked back and forth certain of only one thing, none of them were safe if the demon was truly waiting in the shadows.

 

John’s eyes narrowed. “She was there _after_ you supposedly took care of the demon. _You knew, Sam._ You knew it wasn’t finished!”

 

Sam flinched. “No . . . I thought I had . . . .”

 

“Who’s Sandy?” asked Dean. Fear threatened to once again rule him and he fought hard to squash it down.

 

Scrambling to his feet, Sam backed away to put distance between him and his father. Splitting his attention between Dean and John, he rubbed the welt along the side of his jaw. “She’s the waitress at the diner back in Nomed Hollow. When I picked up the take out I ordered I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it or not. She just seemed to know things that I couldn’t for certain say she shouldn’t.”

 

“Like what?” asked Dean, his mouth dry.

 

“Our names for one,” answered Sam.

 

“And?” pressed Dean.

 

“Nothing!” said Sam. “It’s just . . . just the way she acted, you know?”

 

“And you didn’t think to mention this?” asked Dean, breaking out in a cold sweat.

 

“All I wanted was to get you . . . us, out of there,” explained Sam.

 

Dean’s brow furrowed. Thinking back, it explained Sam’s behavior when he had returned and rushed them out of town. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze instinctively dropping to the salt line. Suddenly the salt didn’t seem to be enough protection.

 

Sam frowned and looked at John. “How do you know about her anyhow?”

 

“It told me,” growled John, taking a step forward, but stopping when Dean placed a hand on his chest.

 

“It’s here?” choked Dean, his face paling and eyes shining as he stared hard at John.

 

“Let’s just say it made its presence known,” answered John, shifting his attention away from Sam to him. 

 

“But I destroyed it and its portal,” argued Sam.

 

“The church itself wasn’t its entrance into this world,” said John. “Just like [ Stull Cemetery](http://www.prairieghosts.com/stull.html) outside of our old home, it’s the entire area surrounding it, not just the church.”

 

“Stull Cemetery?” Dean shared a look with Sam. “You said that was just local legend.”

 

Sam paled at the implications. “I honestly thought I had destroyed it.” His expression begged for Dean to believe him.

 

“Local legend has its roots set in fact,” said John, his initial anger at Sam diminishing as it always did when innocence could still shine through Sam’s eyes. “Thought you boys would have learned that by now.”

 

“Shit,” breathed Dean, partially stumbling toward the bed and sitting down.

 

“You’ll be safe here, Dean. I’ll make sure this is finished.” John wanted to assure Dean he would not go through what he had again.

 

“No,” said Dean. He felt the nausea surge through him at the thought of going back, but he knew better than any of them just how strong the demon was. 

 

“You’re not going with me and you’re not staying here by yourself,” countered John, glancing over at Sam. “I needed to confirm the demon was still around. Now I know. I can’t go after it and worry about the two of you.”

 

Including them both was not lost on Sam and he furrowed his brow as he tried to understand the complexity that made up his father. How was it he could be madder than a wet cat, then be equally protective, all within a matter of minutes?

 

“We go together, or we’ll meet you there,” said Dean, gathering every scrap of courage he still possessed. He was terrified, but fear for John trumped it.

 

Sam stood straight and faced his father, setting his jaw. “Looks like it’s settled.”

 

“This is not open for discussion,” snapped John. “I’m holding you responsible for your brother’s safety.” Suddenly he saw his sons through the eyes of a father and not as a hunter. They were the only thing he had in this world and more than anything he wanted them safe. He had raised them to keep them safe, to teach them to protect themselves and each other from the horrors that lurked in the shadows.

 

“We’re going,” said Sam, folding his arms. Still smarting from the sucker punch, he clenched his teeth in defiance.

 

“Next time it could just as easily take you, Sam,” said John, a wash of guilt swept over him for having hit Sam, an act that was unforgivable.

 

“We stick together,” said Dean, forcing his trepidation down.

 

“You’re in no condition to fight,” argued John, careful to keep his distance. He didn’t trust himself enough to simply reach out and hug Dean to him. It didn’t matter if it was merely a means to comfort his son, it could too easily turn into something more. The demon had shown him that much.

 

“Maybe not, but I can keep it occupied long enough for the two of you to kill it,” swallowed Dean.

 

“Dean!” John was appalled at the mere suggestion of what Dean was proposing.

 

“You’re not setting yourself up to go through that again,” said Sam, horrified that Dean even suggested it. “You stay close to me while we deal with it.”

 

“Like you protected him before?” snapped John, regretting the moment the words left his mouth. “Sam . . . .”

 

“This time is different,” said Sam, his face paling. “We know about it and are ready for it.”

 

“Dad . . . ,” said Dean. “We’re stronger together. That’s what it’s afraid of. If we separate, it’ll just pick us off one by one.”

 

John studied his sons, knowing them well enough to understand they would follow him, despite his orders for them not to. “I can’t fight this thing if I’m worried about the two of you. I need to know the both of you are safe.”

 

“You can’t ask us just to sit this one out,” said Sam.

 

Facing Dean and Sam, John knew he had already lost the argument. 

 

“When’s the last time you slept?” asked Dean, taking John’s silence as acceptance of their going with him.

 

“We’ll all get some sleep and leave in the morning,” said John turning toward the door. Everything on top of the last two days of hard driving caught up with him.

 

“Where are you going?” asked Dean.

 

“To sleep in the truck,” answered John. He wasn’t sure he could face seeing his boys sharing a bed, and the idea of sharing with Dean was out of the question.

 

“No,” said Sam, forcing himself to set aside their personal issues and stepping closer to John.

 

“I’m not going to take off in the middle of the night, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said John, yanking the door open.

 

“It’s not that,” said Sam, placing his hand firmly on the door and blocking John’s way. “If it was able to reach you here, then it’s not safe for any of us to be separated.”

 

John and Sam locked gazes, neither budging until Dean reached between them and pushed the door closed.

 

*******

 

Dean stared up at the ceiling in the dark, wrestling with the knowledge he was willingly going back into hell. Slowly he rose and headed for the bathroom, noting his movements weren’t as stilted. Returning, he paused on his way back to bed to gaze down at his father and brother. The two of them were sleeping side by side on the other bed and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to crawl between them. 

 

John had always been a light sleeper and the sensation of being watched woke him to find Dean standing at the foot of the bed. “Dean? What is it?”

 

Swallowing, Dean shook his head, but didn’t move away. “Nothing.”

 

“You sure?” asked John, partially sitting up and bracing himself with his elbows.

 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Sorry I woke you.”

 

“Can’t sleep?” asked John.

 

Dean shrugged.

 

“Would it help if . . . if you were closer to Sam?” ventured John having come to the conclusion that it would be impossible to prevent the closeness his sons shared. It still didn’t stop the twinge of jealousy that insisted on rearing its head, though. He had lain awake earlier wondering if such a relationship was the result of the isolated life of being a hunter. It was damn near impossible to develop any real relationship with anyone that didn’t know, or understand, such a life. It would also explain his growing feelings and why he had left Dean before.

 

“What would help would be being closer to you both,” said Dean, startled that he had voiced the admission out loud. 

 

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s . . .” started John.

 

Sam rolled over onto his side, scooting toward the edge of the bed and creating a space for Dean. “C’mon. It’ll be a little snug, but I think we can manage it.”

 

John looked questioningly at Sam, but words failed him. His heart skipped a beat at the prospect of having Dean pressed close against him and he almost bolted from the bed.

 

Silently Sam looked at him, before turning his attention back to Dean. He had woken the moment John had spoken to Dean, but had remained still and silent, smothering the urge to intercede between them. He had no right to demand that Dean only want him, considering the two of them could have easily been together instead if John hadn’t turned away from Dean.

 

Biting his lower lip, Dean hesitated, torn between needing this and reliving the nightmare courtesy of the demon.

 

“It’s just us, Dean,” said Sam, understanding Dean’s sudden reluctance even after admitting he wanted this.

 

Nodding once, Dean placed one knee on the mattress and stopped, looking toward his father and needing John to want this as well.

 

Not trusting himself to speak, John turned on his side and shifted toward the edge of the mattress. He waited until Dean was settled between them before lying down on his side with his back toward him, figuring it was the safest position he could take in the situation.

 

Sam was careful not to inadvertently touch or brush against Dean. The last thing he wanted was him to misinterpret any innocent contact. 

 

The tension radiating from both sides had Dean on edge. This was worse than keeping them at a distance. Shifting, he rolled on his side and spooned behind John, while reaching back to tug Sam closer. He broke out in a cold sweat, but forced himself to accept the physical contact that he craved deep down. Slipping an arm over John, he felt him go rigid.

 

Following Dean’s wishes, Sam molded himself along Dean, resting his hand on his hip while trying to nuzzle the back of his neck without being obvious. He could feel the apprehension in Dean, but the fact that he was once again close to him was worth sharing him with John.

 

The feel of Dean pressed against his back, hugging him around the waist, had John squeezing his eyes tightly closed. Intellectually his mind screamed for him to move, to put as much distance as possible between him and Dean. Yet, emotionally his heart eagerly embraced the turn of events. In the end, he succumbed to the demands of the heart, which in turn caused him to start rearranging the priorities of his life, especially where his sons were concerned.

 

Expecting flashes of memories to suffocate him, Dean was both surprised and relieved when the sense of security and peace seeped over him. Too soon he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, secure in the knowledge he was loved and protected.

 

Lifting his head to look down at Dean, a small smile graced Sam’s lips. The worry lines that usually marred Dean’s face during sleep were gone. Unable to resist, he lightly kissed Dean’s temple before settling down to sleep.

 

The soft sounds of Dean’s breathing sounded loud to John as he focused all his senses on the unconscious play of Dean’s fingers against his skin. Old feelings came rushing back with a vengeance after years of denial and soft tears gently fell as he surrendered to the soothing comfort of acceptance.

 

*******

 

Morning brought the stark reality of dreams to light. John woke to the sensation of calloused fingers lightly exploring down his chest and stomach, venturing toward forbidden areas further south. He was torn between stopping the elicit touches, to craving more. Biting hard on his lower lip, he couldn’t control the involuntary flutter of muscles that Dean’s questing hand provoked as the barrier of soft cotton was breached. 

 

Expecting to be stopped at any moment, Dean cautiously brushed the tips of his fingers against the warm flesh of his father. He was rewarded by soft flesh hardening under his touch, swelling and filling his palm.

 

John’s breathing altered as the hand holding him changed from a tentative touch to a firm grip. Afraid of breaking the spell Dean had spun around them, he choked back the groan of need as his burgeoning length was stroked with a skilled touch. A vision of Dean doing this to Sam was quickly and decisively brushed away as he was played perfectly.

 

A sense of power stole over Dean as he felt John respond to his touch, knowing he was responsible for John’s reaction. He knew the moment Sam woke and realized what he was doing. He could feel the sudden tension behind him and he turned his head to look over his shoulder at him.

 

Sam wanted to yell for Dean to stop, wanting to be the one Dean willingly reached out for the first time since the attack. He started to pull his arm free from around Dean due to the growing belief he was being replaced. It was stemmed the moment Dean looked at him. Hazel eyes gazed at him without the horror of fear for the first time since that night and silently asked him to stay. In that instant he had a choice to make and he did. He would rather share Dean than lose him completely. Shifting forward, he slowly closed the distance between them and gently kissed him, resisting the urge to plunder the sweet, familiar mouth. Reluctantly he pulled back from those sinful lips and consoled himself by lightly nuzzling the crook of Dean’s neck. 

 

Relief washed over Dean and he closed his eyes as Sam assured him he was willing to be there with him. Turning his attention back to John, he felt him tremble as he held back. Sliding his fist upward, he ran his thumb over the weeping tip, spreading the precum over the spongy crown before sliding his hand back down. The sharp intake of breath told him John was getting close, but he wanted to draw this moment out for as long as possible.

 

After an eternity of growing need, John was desperate for release and covered Dean’s hand with his own, guiding him to increase the pressure and speed. The intense tingling of pleasure caused him to curl forward as he spilled his orgasm over their joined fists. Gasping for air, it wasn’t until that moment he remembered Sam. A hot flush of heat burned his cheeks at the realization that what had just happened had been witnessed by him. “Oh, god . . . .”

 

 

Dean tensed, the warm feeling he had was suddenly replaced by apprehension. He froze, afraid to move and set off the possible repercussions of his actions. The sudden tightening of Sam’s arm around him relayed the fact Sam sensed his sudden unease.

 

Sam prepared himself for whatever might happen next to protect Dean from the possible fallout with John.

 

Never having shied from any confrontation, John steeled himself and sat up, turning to look over at his sons. His gaze fell immediately on Sam, caught by eyes that he couldn’t read. “Sam . . . .”

 

It took a moment of stunned understanding that John’s unease was due to his concern for Sam’s reaction, and not for his own, in regards to what had happened. Uncertain of what to say or do, Sam lowered his gaze for a moment to Dean before once again looking back at John. “It’s meant to be.”

 

In that instant they both understood the acceptance by the other in Dean’s life, also knowing it wouldn’t necessarily be a bed of roses. Watching the play between Sam and John, Dean waited for one or the other to speak.

 

“We, uh, if we’re going to get started, we better see about getting ready,” said John. “I’ll, um, take first shower.” He hesitated, looking down at Dean and the bright eyes that gazed back at him. The faint smile told him that what had transpired between them had been honestly shared and with a lighter heart rose and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

“Dean . . . ,” started Sam.

 

“I’m sorry,” interrupted Dean.

 

“Don’t be,” said Sam, hiding the truth behind a quirked grin. “You can’t fight fate. I know, look at us.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, visibly relaxing. Rolling over, he curled against Sam as the sound of the shower running filled the room.

 

Wrapping his arms around Dean, the scent of John drifted to Sam. The hope of Dean coming back to him brightened, but he knew it would never be the same as it once had been. No longer would it be just the two of them.


End file.
